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“I thought you were the one with stomach issues. I found you practically doubled over in the hallway, groaning in pain,” she replies, her green eyes lighting up with a wicked glimmer.
“You may be right. I think we both ate something that didn’t agree with us,” I reply, glancing down at the horrified woman who was considered my date for the evening.
“We should get home. Alone. Not together. We don’t live together,” Meghan says, sending Adam an apologetic look. “Sorry to cut our evening short, Adam. It was so great catching up with you. Next time you’re in town, give me a call.”
“But I don’t have your number,” he says as I pull her toward the back door.
“Thanks for dinner,” Meghan replies, her hand tucked into mine, completely ignoring his statement about not having her number. We’re so close we can practically smell the fresh air.
“It was nice meeting you, Nick. I know Rhenn left you without a car, but if it’s okay, I might stay here with Adam and have a drink.” Or sex. The way they’re looking at each other, sex is definitely on the table tonight.
“Yep, sure, fine. Nice to meet you,” I say, just before we make a break for it and hit the parking lot.
When we reach the outside, we both stop and break into fits of laughter. “Our dates are going to be bumping uglies very soon,” Meghan says through her giggles.
“Definitely. I bet parking lot sex is on the menu tonight,” I add, glancing at the smiling, happy woman next to me. “Hungry?”
“Starving. I didn’t eat much of my dinner,” she confesses, even though I already know.
“Hamburger from the drive-in or foot-long hotdog from the beach vendor?”
“Foot-long. I definitely need a foot-long.” Suddenly, she realizes what she said and starts to blush a deep shade of fuchsia. “Hotdog. I mean, I need a foot-long hotdog.”
“Not helping,” I laugh, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her into my embrace.
“I can’t believe I said that. So embarrassing,” she mumbles, her face pressed firmly into my chest. I stand perfectly still, afraid to move or even breathe. Meghan is in my arms and I’m not sure it’s the right move or not, but I don’t want this moment to end, so I just hold her and revel in the way her breath penetrates my shirt and warms my chest.
Suddenly, she stills. When she pulls back, dropping her arms to her sides, she gives me a sheepish look laced with embarrassment. “Sorry about…the hugging…thing,” I say, desperately looking to get back to our easy camaraderie from just a few minutes ago.
“Oh, no problem,” she shrugs her shoulders and glances over to where her car is parked. “So…food?”
“Definitely.”
Together, we make our way to her vehicle and head toward the best little food shack in Jupiter Bay. For foot-longs.
And I won’t watch her eat it, allowing dirty thoughts to penetrate my brain.
Yeah.
Good luck with that one, buddy.
